Alternative Title - "I'll Keep My Old Wife Thank You."
Sale streamers flutter at me
Like a flirtatious look from a new wife
Come hither, they call from the street.
I step out of the shadowy afternoon
And into the brassy showroom.
I am showered with flowered guises.
They parade on stage, tufted, or buttoned,
Pink petals, pert and perky.
Their frames, flexible yet strong.
Their looks hold up well under these conditions.
But what, after the turn of twenty years,
and the weight of bouncing of children?
In front of me, a taught one shimmers.
A butt so firm, it’s quarter worthy.
THAT one would promise me no rest.
Over there, another advertises,
"No springs" - and dreams fit for a King.
Her sighs are silvered whispers.
I turn to go and she tugs me back,
"I promise an unforgettable memory -
and I know how to not spill the wine."
But I know better.
In one soft exhalation, she would return to her former state,
And welcome a new lover without giving me
a second thought. So much for remembrance.
I think I’ll keep my old one.
She’s saggy in all the right spots,
And knows which side I sleep on.
Who cares what they look like anyway?
No one ever sees them naked.
Except maybe for a few minutes in the spring,
when we air them out on Sunday.
